


Kaleidascopic

by The_Freedom_Roadblocks



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Android!Enjolras, M/M, Mechanic!Grantaire, Sci Fi AU, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 03:40:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2836751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Freedom_Roadblocks/pseuds/The_Freedom_Roadblocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Well done, robot,” said Grantaire. “Who programmed you to kiss like that?”<br/>“What did you just call me?” The android rounded on him, his eyes blazing with fury.<br/>“Uh…” Grantaire took a step back. There was definitely something funky going on inside this android’s head.<br/>“You called me ‘Robot’,” he growled. “You are treating me as though I am less than human because I am artificial. I have the same faculties as any human so I would like you to stop.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kaleidascopic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darthjamtart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darthjamtart/gifts).



> Warning for graphic violence and mentions of alcoholism.

Kaleidoscopic. 

The sky split into a million colours: red, purple, blue and gold. The sun was just setting over the bay as Grantaire sat on the sand, blinking in awe. In the city he'd never seen the sky lit up with so many colours. In the city life was conducted in grey scale: grey walls, grey buildings, grey floors and grey food. There the smog turned the sunset into faded orange. Coming into the country was like scrubbing dust off a window; it’s not until you’ve looked through the clean window that you realise you’ve been living in the dark. Here light and colour drizzled through the trees, and saturated the sand and the sea. The little waves breaking on the beach lulled Grantaire into a sense of calm, the sand under him was still warm from the afternoon sun and the sky rippled with the most beautiful sunset he had ever seen.

It was the first time in a long time that he felt safe enough to relax. In the last few months he'd been chased out of his home, shot at by government agents, lost his admittedly shitty job and kissed by an android. The last one wasn't actually as traumatising as the rest, even considering the verbal dressing down Enjolras had given him seconds after extracting his tongue from Grantaire's throat, but he still counted it as a stressful life event. Not that his previous lifestyle was anything to brag about, since it somewhat resembled that of a hippopotamus, only exchange rolling around in a river to wallowing in alcohol. Still, being hunted by government agencies didn't exactly fill his quota for a good time.

Grantaire couldn’t find it in him to regret saving Enjolras. It was been almost exactly three months ago on his walk home from work. If Grantaire had known that that night his life would change forever, he might not have been so scathing about his boring life. 

***

It was just past eight when Grantaire was leaving the office. Leaves scrapped over the concrete footpath, carried along by a light breeze that interrupted an otherwise muggy evening. The sun had already sunk bellow the city skyline. The buildings rose like broken teeth into the orange sky. Smog smeared the horizon with grey streaks—a remnant of the coal age (The last time energy had been extracted from fossil fuels had been over 20 years ago, but the traces remained. Huge quarries still cratered the earth and old oil rigs protruding like ancient spires out west, the tops of a giant castle, the fallen empire of oil).

Grantaire’s thoughts turned towards himself; he was a mechanic in the age of biotechnology. Only yesterday he’d open the back of an android’s skull and found not circuitry but… well he didn’t know what. He remembered his shock at seeing the pulsating organic brain behind the metal barrier—so estranged from circuits and wires—something he would never understand, something so animal... so human? How long before there was no need for a mechanic like him? How long before he was sitting in the back of a junk store, fiddling with dusty machines and gradually sliding into further irrelevance.

He shook his head and stared at the path ahead of him. We he got home he would open that bottle of whiskey he'd been saving, in order to take his mind off such morbid things like the future. He had the weekend off. He would sleep until 12 then read until he fell asleep again. It would be okay, he was safe and everything would be okay.

He was walking passed the warehouses south of the Company building when he heard faint shouting. As he approached an alleyway, which diverged from the main road, the noise grew louder and louder until Grantaire could make out individual shouts from about three or four men. One voice rose above the rest. It was higher in pitch and brimming with terror. It sent ice through Grantaire's veins. (Should he help?) His breathing grew shallower as he got closer to the commotion and all his instincts were screaming at him to keep going. He hadn't heard anything, (just to keep walking) it was done of his business.

He wasn't going to look down the alleyway as he passed, he was going to go home and drink his whiskey, but then the man shrieked, a scream like Grantaire had never heard before, a scream of an animal cornered, terrified. His head jerked towards the noise reflexively.

Halfway down the alley three men were grouped around a fourth, younger man sprawled on the ground. His blond hair gleamed in the pale light that was filtering into the alley from a floodlight on the other side of the warehouse. It was the only bright thing in a space full of shadows. The men who had cornered him were dressed in grey and black, which made it hard for Grantaire to separate them from the darkness. As he squinted Grantaire saw one of the men raise his hand. His arm seemed strangely elongated and as he brought it down on the blond man and Grantaire realised that he was holding a baton, the kind that policemen used to control crowds. On impact the man cried out again and Grantaire's nerves electrified. He had to get away. He moved as quietly and as he could until he was a block away from the alley and then broke into a jog. As quickly as it had swept over him all the energy leaked out of his veins and he stopped, trembling, and bent over on the side walk to regain his breath. It was none of his business. If he'd tried to help he'd have put himself in danger. He hadn't seen or heard anything.

He started walking again; slowly this time, casually. (Nothing had happened). But guilt was already clawing at his chest and the man's cries still rang in his ears. If he went back he'd get himself killed. He didn't want to die. The man had been so scared. He was probably afraid he would die. Alone and scared.

"Shit shit shit!" Grantaire hissed. He turned around and started jogging back. "God I'm a fucking idiot, shit!"

Halfway back he found a weapon sized branch on the strip of grass between the side walk and a chainlink fence. It had fallen from a tall gum tree, the only tree in sight brave enough to grow in this shithole. He hefted it in one hand and thanked the gods he'd been sensible enough to take martial arts classes. It didn't mean he was any good in a fist fight but he knew how to swing a branch.

He nearly missed the alleyway and had to double back. The noise had died down and all he could hear was a fainting whimpering alongside muffled voices. As he turned into the alley, knees weak and hands shaking, he saw the blond man backed against a wall, his hands covering his face and the other men crowding around him, laughing. One man brought his foot down on their victim's torso and the blond man barely made a noise. He just slid further down the wall, hands shielding his face.

"We know you can't feel it," one man said. "Stop pretending."

"Very good programming," said another. "Very impressive that they got you to cry like a girl."

"Hey," Grantaire called out lamely. Immediately after calling out he realised he should have staged a surprise approach but luckily the men didn't seem to hear him over their laughter.

Unseen he crept up behind the man standing closest to him. Grantaire raised the branch over his shoulder and smashed it into the side of the first man's temple. It collided with his skull with a sickening crack and the man fell like a sack of potatoes on the pavement. With eerie calmness Grantaire realised he'd probably just killed him. The other two men rounded on him in surprise. Making full use of his advantage Grantaire raised the branch again and smacked it down on the second man's face. the man stumbled back with a howl of pain, his hands coming up to cover what was left of his face, blood seeping steadily through his fingers. The third man lunged at Grantaire, striking his knees out with his baton. Grantaire fell backwards, his hands slapped the ground of either side of him to help break the fall but the air was still forced out of his lungs on impact. The man came down on top of him, straddling his waists and fists already driving forward to Grantaire’s face. Grantaire raised his hands to shield himself but not before receiving a blow to his right cheek bone. His years of martial arts training finally kick started his instincts and he jerked his hips up, off balancing his attacker. He griped one arm that shot out to support the man and rolled over on top of him, straddling him and striking out with his fists until his knuckles were bloody, sin sliced open on the other man's bones. When Grantaire rolled off him the man was whimpering in pain.

"Oh my god," he whispered, staring at his hands. "Oh my god."

He looked around, his body still tensed and ready for another attack, and his gaze feel upon the blond man huddled up against the wall. He was staring up at him, his eyes wide and blue, and his blond hair fell around his face in loose ringlets. He was beautiful, disturbingly so. He was beautiful in a way no human could possibly be and despite the blood and dirt smeared over his face Grantaire recognised his face instantly. His face was the same as the android he’s worked on earlier—the one with the fleshy humanoid brain—only this one’s face was contorted with emotion he looked much younger, barely a boy. He’d never seen an android look frightened before. 

“Who are you?” The android rasped. He was clutching one of his arms to his chest, positioned in a way that made Grantaire suspect that the metal joint was broken. There was a large scrape over one of his shoulders that was oozing clear, artificial blood. The machine was so life like it was incredible. The mechanic in Grantaire itched to get his hands under his skin; to figure it out, to see if his body was as alien as his brain. Grantaire might have stared at him—it?—until dawn had he not heard a scuffling behind him. The man whose face he’d smashed with the branch was sprinting out of the alley. Grantaire leapt forward to follow him before realising it was too late, he wouldn’t catch him. There was no time to think the situation through either, which was why instead of calling the police or legging it out of there alone he turned to the android and offered his hand.  
“I’ll tell you my life story when we’re out of here,” he said. “But right now we need to run.”

The android hesitated then took his hand. He hauled the android to his feet and in the process brushed his broken arm. The android cried out in pain.

“Sorry, sorry,” apologised Grantaire, tugging the android’s good arm around his shoulders. “Come on.”

He half dragged the android out of the alley and pulled him down the street, glancing everywhere around him, afraid the second man would return with backup. They had made it two blocks away when behind them an alarm went off.

“Okay,” Grantaire coxed the android. “Suck it up, we have to run.”

His feet slapping the pavement sounded like gunshots to him, giving away their position, but he kept pushing forward, half running and half stumbling trying to keep the android on his feet. They made it to the bridge across the river despite the burning stitch in his side and the whimpers the android gave out with every pounding step. On the other side of the bridge was the nightlife centre of the city and at this time on a Friday night it should be teeming with crowds. As bloody as they both were, if they could just make it over the bridge they could blend into the crowd. They turned onto the bridge and a pair of headlights illuminated the road behind them. 

“Come on,” Grantaire ran faster but the android slipped out of his grasp, tripped and fell to his knees. The headlights behind them were growing bigger. His instincts were screaming at him just to run, run like fuck, but instead he bent down and pulled the android to his feet.

“You stupid robot!” He hissed, grabbing his hand and forcing him to move. On either side of them water churned and the sounds of people laughing and chatting carefree drifted over the river. He could see the lights of restaurants and clubs gleaming out over the water, like beacons ushering him to safety, but none of that mattered if they didn’t make it to the other side before the car caught them. He didn’t dare look behind him as he ran, but he could hear the sound of an engine roaring louder and louder. 

With ten metres left, the crowd opened up in front of him, a rolling, undulating mass of people strolling from bars to clubs too restaurants. He glanced back over his shoulder and was almost blinded by the headlights. The roaring engine was dead on his heels. He dragged the android across the road and into the crowd. There was no way a car could follow him, the streets of the CBD were off limits to public vehicles in order to foster a pedestrian friendly environment. That wouldn’t stop them being followed on foot and behind him he heard car doors slam. 

People were everywhere. He was too scared to let go of the android hand, least he lose him in the crowds. Every time he bumped into a disgruntled pedestrian Grantaire heard the android whimper in pain. Grantaire made a sharp turn and shoved the Android through a nearby doorway. They tumbled into a darkly lit room packed with patrons. Grantaire knew the place well, it was a French bar called the Musain. He’d spent long nights here accosting strangers with a glass of rum and coe in one hand. No one noticed their dramatic entrance over the music booming from the sound system; however the waitress looked up, clearly startled. Grantaire recognised her, her name was Louison and he had more than once drunkenly propositioned her. She seemed to take it in good humour, which was more than Grantaire deserved considering.

“I need a favour,” he told her breathlessly. “No time to explain, but there are some guys chasing us and I need you to tell them we went through the backdoor. You don’t have to say anything, just point. I need you to do this. Please!”

She scowled, “For goodness sake, Grantaire! I getting sick of your drunken-ass shit—”

“Please Lousion?” he begged and she snorted.

“And why are you being chased?” She looked pointedly at the android and raised her eyebrows.

Grantaire shook his head, “No time to explain, did I mention I’m being chased? But I’ll call you.”

“You’re not getting my number,” she called out as Grantaire dragged the android towards the back of the bar. A few of the men they passed laughed but most of the customers ignored the two bloody men weaving through the tables. Out back there was a small hallway that linked the main room with the kitchen and the back alley where they kept two huge dumpsters. Instead of following the corridor outside, Grantaire yanked open a door opposite the kitchen and pulled the android up a rickety flight of stairs.

“Where are we going?” The android gasped.

“You’ll see,” replied Grantaire. Above Musain there was a large space people rented to hold meetings. Grantaire had been up here several times for one reason or another. Most memorable for an AA meeting that had turned south when him and a college friend, Bossuet discovered they could climb out the window and sneak into the night club next door.   
Grantaire hauled himself through the window and then helped the android scrambled through. Grantaire frowned when he found himself in a labyrinth of corridors. 

“It’s this way I think?” He muttered and the android snorted. 

“So my brave rescuer is lost in the back room of a nightclub?” he said dryly. “How heroic.”

“Shut up,” Grantaire snapped. So the android was programmed to be snarky? That was new. “Or the brave hero might reconsider.”

Up ahead one of the nightclub staff appeared.

“Get back!” Grantaire hissed but they had already been seen. 

“What are you doing!” she stared them down accusingly. “You’re not allowed back here.”

“Uhh…” Grantaire struggled for an answer. “We didn’t know… sorry?”

“I’m getting the manager,” she said and turned on her heel primly.

“Wait,” cried Grantaire. He leant into the android, resting his arm around his shoulders as though he needed him to stay on his feet. “I thought the bathroom was this way?” he slurred. “Where are we again?”

The girl turned back with a slight frown, reconsidering. “The bathroom isn’t down here. The door is supposed to be locked. How did you get back here?”

“I dunno…” Grantaire continued, doing his best to act drunk. “The door was wide open.” He waved his hands for emphasis. 

The girl sighed, “Of course it was, follow me.”

She led them into the club. It was packed with people, dancing and grinding up against each other in time to the heavy back beat. Swing music had just come back into fashion, so the dancing seemed strangely disjointed and uneven. The girl pointed them to the bathroom and disappeared back into the maze of corridors. Beside him the android covered his ears and whimpered. 

“It’s so loud!” he shouted over the music. “It hurts; please get me out of here!”

Grantaire wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him through the dance floor. Every time someone jostled his broken arm Grantaire felt his body shudder. A few meters from the exit he caught sight of a man in familiar grey garb coming up the stairs. He had a baton hooked onto his belt and his eyes were raking through the crowd.   
“Robot, stop!” He pulled the android towards him. “Pretend to dance!”

The android wasn’t listening. He was covering one ear with his good hand and there were fresh tear tracks over his cheeks. Any second their pursuer could look their way.  
Grantaire grabbed the androids face between his hands and kissed him out of desperation. The android jerked back in response. Grantaire placed an arm around the middle of his back and yelled over the music into his uncovered ear. “One of our pursuers is in here.”

The android responded immediately. He turned his head and pressed his lips against Grantaire’s. They were so soft, far softer than he had expected for a robot. And they were surprising life like as they pushed and sucked. It was a clumsy kiss. Grantaire felt his knees go weak and his body started tingling. Half of him was anticipating a tap on his shoulder or the strike of a baton on his back. But he felt nothing except the crush of bodies around him and the androids rapid pulse under his skin. He tilted his head further to the side and rubbed his tongue against the android’s lower lip. It felt so human. The android pushed back against him and for one long moment Grantaire forgot they were being perused as he let the music wash over him and the metallic taste of lips fill him up. Then the android pulled away.

“He’s checking out the bar, let’s get out while we have a chance,” he said breathlessly. Grantaire hadn’t known androids could sound breathless, or stare at him the way he was staring at him right now, with swollen red lips and bright, gleaming eyes. Then the android was leading him down the stairs and out onto the busy street.

“Where do we go?” he asked.

“Turn left down here,” Grantaire replied. The android squeezed his hand and led the way as Grantaire directed him down side street after side street until they arrived, puffing at the metro. 

“Well done, robot,” said Grantaire. “Who programmed you to kiss like that?”

“What did you just call me?” The android rounded on him, his eyes blazing with fury.

“Uh…” Grantaire took a step back. There was definitely something funky going on inside this android’s head.

“You called me ‘Robot’,” he growled. “You are treating me as though I am less than human because I am artificial. I have the same faculties as any human so I would like you to stop.” 

“Oh, my apologies,” Grantaire smirked even though the android’s words had shaken him to the core. “What shall I call you, then?”

“My name is Enjolras,” replied the android.

“Okay Enjolras,” Grantaire nodded. “Let’s get somewhere safe.”

As they boarded the metro train Enjolras leaned in towards him.

“I think we lost them,” said Enjolras. 

“I pray you’re right,” replied Grantaire.

***

Presently the sun glimmered red. They had come so far since that first encounter. Grantaire still ached to find out what exactly was going on in Enjolras’ head. He was a living creature in his own right and a world apart from any other android he’d encountered.

Grantaire didn’t regret saving Enjolras at all. And to see the sky like this, like out of an old painting full of life and colour… the pain and the fear was worth it.

He heard footsteps slipping over the sand behind him and he craned his neck over his shoulder to see Courfeyrac approaching. A trickle of jealousy slid down his throat at the sight of his perfectly coifed hair and sloping muscles. He and Enjolras had grown close in the two months they had known each other, close enough that Grantaire had let his friendship with Courf be blackened with resentment. Presently he tried to smile as Courfeyrac settled himself down on the beach beside Grantaire.

"It's beautiful," said Courfeyrac. "I've never seen the sky so colourful before."

Grantaire nodded, eyes glued on the horizon. "What brings you outside?"

"I just wanted to chat," admitted Courfeyrac. "We've all been through a lot, but you most of all. You were the one that started all this."

Grantaire's shoulders hunched. "It started long before me."

"But without you none of us would be here," insisted Courfeyrac.

"I guess I played my part, didn't I?" Grantaire sighed. "I would leave you guys in peace but I have nowhere to go now. I lost my apartment, my job and I believe I’m listed on more than one government hit list."

"You want to leave us?"

Of course he didn't want to leave. "Like I said, I have nowhere to go."

They sat in silence as the last rays of sun light stained the sky red. Gradually clouds rolled in and Grantaire heard a clap of distant thunder.

"We should go in," said Courfeyrac. "Before we get caught in the storm."

Grantaire stood up with Courfeyrac and brushed the sand from his pants. The waves he saw were getting bigger and when they broke on the sand the sound echoed around the tiny bay.

Courfeyrac tapped at the metal insert in his ear. It was an electron implant that connected to his brain stem. It functioned in the same way as Grantaire's handheld companion, it made call and sent messages, connected to the internet, the power grid and various other mesh networks in range. From the tilt of Courfeyrac's head Grantaire knew he was receiving some kind of message. A moment later Courfeyrac laughed and said to Grantaire," Enjolras says to tell you that 'if you really think you could keep this a secret from me, then you really are an imbicile. Get your—‘” Courfeyrac broke off. “Well, I don't think I should repeat what he said out loud but basically your choices are get soaked out here or get fried to a crisp by Enjolras' glare inside. Wow, Grantaire, what did you do?"

"This time?" asked Grantaire. He racked his brains to try and figure out what Enjolras was mad about. It honesty could be a number of things, including a number of inappropriate robot jokes Grantaire had made up with Joly and Bossuet beside the refrigerator. Joly and Bossuet had been giggling about them all through breakfast so really Enjolras should be mad at them and not him...

Courfeyrac patted his shoulder in what was probably supposed to be reassuring but really made Grantaire feel like a kindergartener being told off for doodling on the tables. "Enjolras isn't actually mad," Courfeyrac said cheerfully. "He just thinks he is."

"Well, either way it looks the same from where I'll be standing," Grantaire grimaced. "On the floor. As a pile of ashes. Here lies Grantaire, killed by Enjolras' death ray glare."  
Courfeyrac seemed to think that was a joke judging by the smile curling his lips. 

“He’s very fond of you, you know,” Courfeyrac said.

“I don’t know, somehow that makes it worse,” admitted Grantaire. “Because when I do finally disappoint him, it’ll be so much worse.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'll post the next part of this when I can edit it (after xmas - it's crazy around here). Also I like to think that if Courfeyrac gives out love advice to Enjolras, he'd do so by singing Tell Her About It by Billy Joel. Seriously, imagining that made my day.  
> Also I'm so done with snow and cold xmas stuff. It's fucking summer here. In Australia we drink punch and play cricket and soak ourselves in dubious amounts of alcohol next to the barbie. NON-DENOMINATIONAL END OF YEAR CELEBRATION CHEER!
> 
> The next part is super angsty and then fluffy.


End file.
